


Garrison and the Femmes Fatales

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Genre: A walk on the fantastical side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:34:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23162563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Three different females, each with a different agenda, but all three with their sights set firmly on Lieutenant Craig Garrison.  Just what he needed when he's just trying to get the job done, right??!  And not just ANY job, but a job where he'd promised his team that, for THEM, it would be just like a little vacation.  Somehow, looking back, when you combined that vital mission, a traitor, vengence sought for deeds long past, those three females?  Add in Garrison vying with a rival for the romantic attentions of one of those females, a most unusual lady?  A VACATION???  For HIS part, Goniff was more inclined to call it "a quick trip down the rabbit 'ole - Alice and the Chessy Cat and all that bit, you know??"  And at least one of the team thinks a refund is in order!
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Garrison and the Femmes Fatales

Craig Garrison considered the matter on his way back from London. This one was going to be a doozy. Oh, perhaps not to get the job done - basically he was just meeting with three groups, getting them to coordinate their efforts instead of spending most of their time squabbling amongst themselves. It shouldn't be too complicated; after all, no matter their internal politics, they DID have a common enemy. And he was becoming quite adept at getting even the most diverse of individuals to pull in the same direction, as evidenced by his team. Well, not HQ, but that was a different story! 

No, his problem was how he was going to get his guys ready for this mission. The label was evocative, to say the least - 'Assignment - Blind Man's Bluff'. Obviously someone had a too highly developed sense of humor! Still, it was apt - that file would NOT have been particularly helpful so far as giving a hint of what the mission actually WAS, considering the redacted information file in his briefcase contained more blackouts than words, the maps had been totally omitted, even the place names, much less the contact names, considered too sensitive to be put into writing. Luckily, he had an excellent memory; he would have hated to depend on that file to jog it for any small points he'd been given in the briefing he'd just left! In fact, the only thing the file DID, was serve as a visual confirmation that there actually WAS a mission of some sort.

He'd also been forbidden to verbally relay any of that omitted information til they reached their destination, and then only what was the bare minimum to get the job done, even to Actor, his Second-In-Command. Certainly nothing about the overall strategic objective. 

Well, at least that last made SOME sense; this was perhaps only a small piece of a bigger operation, but it was imperative the enemy had no forewarning. Better to limit the danger of that information getting into the hands of the enemy by reducing the spread of that information. Of course, Garrison was grimly aware that capture was always a possibility, and that any man had his breaking point, himself included, but you did what you could do. 

Yes, this was going to be interesting. But then again, if it all went right, as planned, his guys really wouldn't have a lot to do with it, other than maybe Actor. The rest would rest pretty much on Craig Garrison and his powers of persuasion. 

"Maybe that's the way to approach it. Yes, that should do it - explain it's an opportunity for them to get a little 'paid vacation', lay around relaxing, soaking up some sun, while I do the heavy lifting. Of course, they've been promised that before, not that it's happened yet, but maybe, with any luck, it'll actually turn out that way this time."

He wasn't sure he really believed that, even when he spoke the words into the centered rear-view mirror, trying to put a confident look on his face. That confident look slowly slid into an apprehensive, even worried, one. He had a odd feeling about this one.

*  
"So, we are going 'somewhere' - in order for you to meet with various 'somebodies' - in order to convince them to do 'something' - of vital importance in the aid of 'some activity you are not allowed to talk about'. I see. I DO love these detailed briefings, Craig. It makes it so easy to see how things should be handled to the best advantage," Actor declared in a deeply ironic voice, drawing deeply at his pipe.

"Yeah, Warden. At least tell us if we need to pack our long underwear!" Casino grumped. 

That last mission to Norway had made them ALL yearn for that particular item of clothing. In fact, Casino was still getting ribbed about that first day back. 

He'd been complaining all the time about how cold and wet it'd been, how he'd probably taken permanent damage to some vital portions of his anatomy, damage sure to distress and disappointment any number of the women in London and the surrounding area.

Chief and Actor had just rolled their eyes, ignoring the performance, but Goniff figured HE'D been just as cold and miserable as the rest of them, Casino included, and was getting a little fed up with the 'poor miserable me' act the safecracker was putting on.

In retaliation, during the last bemoaning, Gonif had looked all concerned, had suggested "well, let us take a look, then, Casino. Should be able to tell right off whether you need to go see Doc Riley. Come on now, let's take a good look, put your mind at rest. Pull it out then," he'd nodded encouragingly, leaning forward in his chair and squinting downward carefully. He blinked several times, a puzzled frown appearing.

Slowly he looked back up at Casino, then back down again, then up again to meet the safecracker's eyes, a look of shock and dismay contorting his face. 

"Oh. It IS out. Well, then, mate, I think you just might 'ave a problem!"

Casino had snapped the long towel he was holding in his hand at the Englishman's now grinning face, Goniff ducking back out of reach easily, while Actor and Chief laughed at Casino's flustered state. 

Well, he HAD just gotten out of the shower, was bare as the day he was born, and at Goniff's response, he hadn't been able to help but take a fast, worried look down at himself.

"You idiot!" he'd grumbled, but had to admit, at least to himself, the pickpocket had him going for just a second or two.

"No, no long underwear needed this trip," Garrison assured them now. "In fact, you could probably look at this job as a little vacation. Sunny skies, clean air, pretty scenery, friendly people - come to think of it, I should probably charge you something for taking you with me."

The skeptical looks on his men's face showed just how much credence they put in that. 

For awhile, though, once they landed, got set up in that nice house in the country, complete with a full wine cellar and a smiling, attentive housekeeper, it seemed (to Casino and Actor anyway) like Garrison might be right.

Until it became obvious he wasn't.

*  
"Ah, April. A lovely month, perhaps the loveliest spring has to offer," Actor smiled contentedly, sipping the dark red wine he'd poured from the dusty bottle. "A lovely month, a lovely setting, a lovely wine. All in all, quite an unexpectedly pleasant mission so far." 

Sebastiana, the elderly housekeeper, had already left for the day, but not before providing them with a simple, but adequate meal. Actor knew she could do much better, of course, but she hadn't been given any warning that the Master of the House would be returning, after all. 

Well, until they landed in Sicily, ACTOR hadn't known it either. Yes, there had been a moment of apprehension, but then the pleasure of the sea-scented air, the familiar surroundings, that made him view things in a better light. Still, if he had known ahead of time just where they were headed, he might have taken time to explain certain things much more thoroughly to Garrison. 

As it was, there WAS no time, not more than enough for a quick rejoinder when Garrison laid out the bare bones of the plan as they prepared to move inland. 

"I regret to say it, but I firmly believe my presence will NOT enhance your odds, Craig. My history here is somewhat complicated. Believe me, you do not want me standing at your side when you meet with them! However, on the positive side, I DO have a convenient place for us to stay while you get on with your discussions."

That led to Garrison making a few quick adjustments to his plan, but there hadn't been time for any more. He was regretting adhering so closely to HQ's instructions on strict secrecy; he would have been much better prepared if he and Actor could have had a nice long conversation before they left England!

So, immediately after they landed and arrived at the small but well-appointed and comfortable house in the countryside, it had been Chief riding shotgun for Garrison, and from a distance, not beside him. 

While that was regrettable, of course, Actor WAS enjoying getting reacquainted with this property, one of the more rural of his many holdings. The wine cellar, in particular. 

He chuckled in amusement, considering April was their 'All In All, I'd Rather Be -' theme. Other than it being wartime, with soldiers littering the streets of the nearby town, he was rather content to be where he was for the moment. Well, he'd spent a great deal of time in this area, this very house, at various times - especially during one eventful and quite memorable six-month period. {"Hopefully this time will be not quite so eventful. At least, not in the same way."}

"A little warm for April, don't you think?" Goniff asked absently, only half listening, poking around the room for anything of interest to distract him from the whirlwind in his mind. That he couldn't, that spoke more to his concern than for the surroundings; after all, it was a very nice room, in a very nice house, well-packed with all sorts of bright shiny sparkling objects that would normally get his attention right off. Just - not now. Right now the only bright sparklie he wanted to see was the green-eyed one who left so many hours ago to meet with three partisan units.

Goniff was still ticked off about that. Not that he didn't trust Chief to keep a close watch over Garrison, he did. But to his mind, it was the tall Italian who should have been out there, doing his job, not lounging around in that velvet armchair drinking wine, commenting on the weather, like he was a ruddy king or something! 

"For England, perhaps, but not for Sicily, Goniff. April in England is still, in many ways, only the promise of Spring; here, it is the sweet fulfullment," the con man explained.

The pickpocket didn't really agree, but arguing that, in HIS opinion, what this air felt like was more like early summer than spring? That would only get the Italian's back up and probably provoke another lecture. 

He didn't want to hear another lecture, thank you very much; he, the whole team had listened to several on this trip, enough Goniff wondered if Actor wasn't working himself up to a sore throat from all the talking. Well, if not from the talking, then maybe from if Casino decided to make good on that threat of ramming his fist down the con man's throat if he didn't shut the hell up. In fact, Goniff was starting to consider something much the same! 

Nervously, he took another cautious look out the crack in the shutters. 

"Outta be back by now, don't you think?" he fussed, a worried frown on his face. He was aware that that was the third, maybe fourth time he'd made a similar comment, but couldn't seem to help himself from asking yet again.

Actor sighed, "patience, Goniff, patience. It takes time to do what the lieutenant is trying to accomplish. It is a ticklish thing, trying to bring together the disparate groups involved, get them pointed in the same direction."

"Don't like it, 'im being out there with all of them, all by 'is lonesome. Know I wouldn't be of much use, but you speak the lingo just fine. 'E shoulda taken you with 'im, instead of Chief," the pickpocket insisted, still disgruntled by being overruled in the previous discussion. "Maybe even the both of you."

"Unfortunately, as I told the Lieutenant, my inclusion would have been more than a little disruptive to the process, possibly making an agreement impossible," Actor admitted. He only hoped Sebastiana hadn't said anything to anyone about his presence; he'd cautioned her, but one never knew.

Casino mumbled something rude under his breath as he sat up from the couch where he'd been trying unsuccessfully to take a brief nap - a nap prevented by the ongoing voices of his team mates.

"What, Beautiful? You get cozy with someone's wife here too? Maybe con someone outta the family jewels?" 

It wouldn't be the first time they'd found their job complicated by Actor's varied past; on the other hand, sometimes that past came in handy, so while they teased him, they didn't give him TOO rough a time over it unless that history really bit them in the ass.

"Something like that, Casino," Actor admitted, now having the full attention of both of his team mates. 

"Which?" Goniff asked suspiciously.

"Actually, both, but with different individuals. That Ricardo, Sophia's husband, is now the leader of one of the groups, and Luco a high-ranking member of another, that is, of course, unfortunate. And the presence of Marie Torreto in the third group? Most unfortunate, for she is capable of bearing a grudge that would perhaps even outdo Meghada's best efforts. So, yes, my history here removes any viability of MY taking a leading role, or even backing up Craig in his efforts. 

"Of course, for the overall operation, it is quite a good thing that they are involved, since both Ricardo and Luco are very intelligent, very dangerous men, with a loyal following. Marie? Perhaps in her case, even more so, for a more single-minded, vindictive woman you would have difficulty in finding; I think the Nazi's would find themselves at somewhat of a disadvantage should she give them her entire focus. If Craig can get them moving in the same direction, they would have a significant impact."

That got a rasping growl from the Englishman as he picked up on what was, to him, the important part of all that. 

"Dangerous. Just 'OW dangerous, in w'at way? They likely to try and take it out on the Lieutenant, them being on the outs with you?" Yeah, that fist down the throat was becoming more and more tempting!

Casino snorted in disgust. "Hell, you STILL drivin' yourself nuts worrying about the Warden? Look, if anyone can pull this off, it's him; you know that. And Chief is hanging back, keeping an eye on things. Anything goes squirrelly, he'll let us know."

The safecracker stood up, stretched, accepted a glass of wine from Actor with a nod of thanks. He reached out, got the third glass of wine from the edge of the table, noting with some surprise that it had barely been touched. 

He walked over, held it out to Goniff, who, with a stubborn look on his face, shook his head in refusal, turning to look once more at the outside, searching for some sign of their leader returning.

Casino thumped him on the shoulder. 

"Here, you dumb Limey! Drink this, and stop gettin' yourself all worked up. Everything's most likely going just . . . "

Casino's voice broke off as the sound of shots rang through the still air, volley after volley. The glasses and bottle were abandoned as, their weapons drawn, the three headed out the door at a low crouching run. It would seem everything was NOT going just fine, no matter what Casino had been about to say.

*  
Garrrison had noted the suspicious looks, but that came with the territory. None of these people particularly trusted each other, and there was supposedly quite a history of animosity between the three groups - local politics, personal matters, and probably a hell of a lot more.

Still, they listened, they talked, they considered, and he thought he was getting somewhere. 

Ricardo seemed to be the strongest, perhaps wielding a little more influence, and HE seemed to be coming around to the idea.

Luco, on the other hand, was giving Garrison increasingly black looks, voicing objections that mostly seemed to be based on his concern that the operation would put his rival, Ricardo, at a better advantage. For some reason, the supposed leader of that group, Salvaturi, was hanging back, letting Luco take the lead. Garrison would have given a lot to know what THAT was all about; it was vital that he be dealing with the true leader of each group.

As for the third group? While Custanti did most of the talking, and seemed to have things well in charge, the woman they called Marie was giving Garrison looks that puzzled the hell out of him. They seemed to shift from suspicion to attraction faster than he would have expected, and frankly, he didn't want the complication of anything personal anyway. The fact that Custanti AND Luco noticed those increasingly-warm looks and come-hither glances and didn't approve, that didn't make the hair on the back of his neck settle down again. The other woman in the group, Louisa, just seemed contemptuous of Marie's efforts, and gave Garrison one overall look then obviously dismissed him as not having anything worthy of such attention.

The meeting continued, broke up for coffee and food, then resumed. It was several hours later, after another such break during which Garrison had taken Luco's invitation to stretch out for awhile in a back room, that it all went to hell.

Garrison hadn't slept, but had gathered his thoughts, thought of another way to approach one of the difficult spots. Now, accepting a glass of rustic red wine from Custanti, he and the others were shocked by the shrieks and yells coming from outside. Marie rushed in, followed by Luco carrying an unconscious and battered Louisa. Garrison listened with concern to the story of an attack, the villain having run off. 

His concern jumped dramatically when all eyes turned to him, urged by Marie's condemning words and her outstretched arm, indicating HE was that villain. His protests had no impact, his insisting that Louisa would bear out that he wasn't the one who attacked her thrust aside, with Marie wailing that her sister might not even regain consciousness to be put to the question, and that he was just trying to win time for his men to rescue him.

Of all the ways to sideline his mission, this wasn't one he could have anticipated. That they hadn't killed him immediately was the real shock, but it seemed Marie and Luco were arguing for something much more painful, more drawn-out than an immediate execution. There was a malevolence in Marie's dark eyes that, while understandable under the circumstances, seemed to hint at something deeper even than revenge for her sister being attacked, especially since there was an odd note of gloating satisfaction involved. 

Somehow that didn't seem to fit, didn't make any sense, but Garrison was in no condition to think it through clearly. While they had given way to Marie's insisting, not killing him immediately, they had given him a severe drubbing, enough he could give no resistance as they bound him and tossed him in that back room - this time on the floor, not on the bed.

When he could think again, he worried about his team. Would the partisans attack them as well? How long would it be before his men got worried, came looking for him? What about Chief, hovering on the outskirts? Had he seen anything, heard anything, that might tell him Garrison was in trouble? 

His bonds were too tight to wiggle loose, and they'd taken his revolver, his knife before tossing him in here. 

Silently he gathered his strength, thought of what he could say to convince them of his innocence.

It was perhaps good that he didn't have to put his silver tongue to the test, since no one was in any mood to listen. The wine was being passed around, and more and more Marie's suggestion was gaining support - that bits and pieces of the monster be strewn around the countryside - "where his companions may have the joy of collecting them and trying to fit him back together again!"

The silent shadow that eased through the door was a woman's shape, he could tell that much. She made her painful way silently to the window and just as silently unlocked it, slid it open for the waiting man to come through. 

Chief quickly knelt, slit Garrison's bonds, helped him to his feet.

"Go!" Louisa hissed. "Hide! Marie will see you dead if she can, to get revenge on your friend. Luco as well wants your death, but for different reasons. He is a traitor, I know that, a tool of the Nazi's! I will try to delay them, but you have no time to spare! And, yes, once they are able to see reason again, I will see that they do as you have asked, join forces against the common threat! But there is no reasoning with them, not now."

And with Chief's help, Garrison went out the window, and headed into the darkness. Looking back, he saw the window was now closed, no evidence of their escape.

Well, until one of the sentries coming off his tour at watch spotted them, and the shooting began. Knowing they could be shot at, killed, but having to dodge and hide, not engage, that was something different than they were used to, as well; but killing one of the partisans, even in self-defense, would bode ill for any hopes of future cooperation.

They lucked out; the three men left behind understood that as well, and although taking some considerable damage that might have perhaps otherwise avoided, they managed to see that the pursuers were eventually knocked unconscious, but not otherwise harmed. 

Garrison and his men headed out to find someplace quieter to spend the next part of their 'little vacation'. 

Frankly, agreeable accommodations weren't readily forthcoming, and they'd had to make-do with something far less hospitable than that charming house with its well-stocked wine cellar and kindly housekeeper. Still, they'd make do; they were old hands at that.

They weren't going anywhere anytime soon, that much was obvious. They were all in fairly rough shape, Garrison in particular, and the place was still crawling with searchers, probably would be for quite some time. Though the number did seem to be decreasing, enough Garrison wondered if maybe Louisa HAD been able to convince the majority that he was innocent of what he'd been accused of doing.

Though, as Garrison told his men in the beginning, "I don't think they are looking for US so much as for ME. Marie spun quite a story. Hearing it, I know I wouldn't want a violent, abusive, attempted rapist and murderer like that running around MY neighborhood. It took a few seconds before I realized she was talking about ME. She gave them a few ideas of what needed to be done with me; you would have been picking up pieces of me over the whole countryside if Chief and Louisa hadn't gotten me out of there."

Chief glanced over from where he was rummaging through what food he and Goniff had managed to steal from here and there on their last cautious trip out. It wasn't much, some bread, cheese, some underripe fruit, some bottles filled with water, not wine.

"So, what I don't get? Why? You didn't hurt the woman. That's not you, we all know that. What was this Marie trying for? Why?"

"I still haven't figured all of that out," Garrison admitted. "At first I thought she was covering her tracks, if she was the mole. That doesn't make any sense, though. Yeah, there's a plant in one of the groups, that much was getting obvious, but despite THIS, I really don't think Marie has anything to do with that. She seems too dedicated to the idea of getting the Germans, all the Nazi's and the Fascists aligned with the Nazi's out of here. It was all business, even helping get the other leaders, Ricardo and Luco and Custanti, to meet to discuss an alliance."

Garrison took a drink from the bottle Goniff handed him, nodded his thanks, and continued.

"It really seemed like she was being as helpful as she could be. She'd even asked about the house where I had you guys waiting, warned me that the local police might come to investigate any activity, that the owner paid them well to keep vagrants away. I told her we were okay, we had the owner's permission, that he was an old friend. She just nodded, and then went on to something else. 

"A few hours later, she's screaming the walls down, claiming I beat and tried to rape her sister, Louisa. Louisa was unconscious, not able to say anything one way or the other, but she'd obviously taken some real damage, it wasn't faked. And as much as it doesn't make any sense, I got the feeling Marie and Luco were involved in whatever had happened; there was just something about those looks they were exchanging. And they both had scratches too, though they claimed Louisa was hysterical when they'd found her, fought them while not realizing they were trying to help her, before falling unconscious."

Actor groaned. "It appears Sebastiana was not as discreet as I asked her to be. Marie KNOWS I own that house! That was perhaps not the best thing to do, Craig, to let Marie know that you knew me, and that we were on good terms. No, most unwise!"

They all looked at him, and then at each other, knowing once again Actor's history had reared up to bite them in the rear big-time.

"Blimey, Actor! Someday we need to get us a big map, 'ave you cross off everywhere you've pissed somebody off!" Goniff offered with considerable annoyance as he tied that new bandage in place. It wasn't that he minded patching Garrison up, was more than glad to do so, but really hated the necessity for it. He gave Actor a dirty look, just to emphasize his point of view.

"Shit, Goniff! Probably have to cross off half or more! Probably better he just circles where he DIDN'T piss someone off! Then, we cross off the circles when that changes, cause you know it's gonna!"

Chief snorted, "and then we get HQ, Major Richards, Kingston, all the rest, to let us bow out of any jobs in those areas where there's trouble waiting? Don't see that happening, you know?"

Garrison wanted to ask for details, but his attention was drawn away by the sharp pain in his upper arm as Goniff pulled the bandage tighter. Turned out he didn't have to ask, though, because Casino lunged ahead.

"SO, tell me, Actor, what DID you do to get that Marie dame so fired up? Enough to make up something like this just cause someone maybe knows you?"

"I must admit I was less accommodating than she might have liked, Casino, the last time I stayed here," Actor admitted.

"You? You're all for showering a dame with luxuries. You get caught a little short on cash? Maybe not gettin' enough vitamins? What did she want that you couldn't give her?"

Actor sighed, knowing there was no way he could avoid this.

"It is a long story. She wanted me as a lover, which I admit had its appeal; as Craig can tell you, she is quite beautiful, now perhaps even more than she was back then. However, she was married and she claimed she didn't believe adultery was acceptable behavior for a good Catholic."

Casino snorted, knowing Actor as well as he did. 

"Don't tell me that stopped you? Can't believe that. You coulda had her out of her pants in ten minutes, least from what I've seen and from what you've always bragged about."

"Well, possibly, but it didn't seem the intelligent thing to do, considering," Actor admitted. "You see, she didn't believe adultery was acceptable, but to HER, there was a quite viable solution. All I had to do was to help her kill her husband, thereby making her a widow. That would remove the impediment and the social stricture, you see, as well as leaving her quite wealthy."

The looks that were exchanged at that! Now THERE was an interesting moral outlook - adultery was out, but murder was okay. Alrighty then!

"That seemed a little extreme. Also more than a little worrisome for my own future fate should I do as she ask. Killing one bedmate just might lead to it becoming a habit, you see. Besides, I rather LIKED her husband; he was a good man, intelligent, if rather unsophisticated.

"Carlo, her husband, did not view my gentlemanly attendance on her favorably, and there were some arguments between them. Though she proclaimed her faithfulness and her undivided loyalty to him, I believe he started looking at her with some suspicion, which curtailed certain other of her activities. She did not appreciate that, considered that also my fault. She was also not pleased when I turned my attentions to Sophia, who unfortunately for us now, turned out to be betrothed to Ricardo."

Garrison gave him a long look and sighed, "yes, I can see claiming to know you was likely to light a fuse under her. Hell, under ALL of them!

"But I didn't attack Louisa, and when Louisa untied me and got me out of the house, she claimed it was Marie who beat her, along with Luco. That brings up another subject. Or brings it back around to the first subject - why???"

Casino frowned, trying to make some sense of the whole thing. 

"So, this Louisa, the crazy broad's sister? She's the one who got beat up, ended up helping the Warden, okay. What was her angle? And why did Marie take off on her in the first place? She pissed at her sister about something, or was she just handy?"

Actor had been considering that as well. "Well, I can only hazard a guess, but I think perhaps it was Louisa found out that Marie had gone ahead, but with Luco, not me, to kill Carlo, Marie's husband. You see, Louisa was in love with Carlo, at least she once had been."

"I don't get it," Goniff protested, brow wrinkled as he struggled to make heads or tails of this drama-in-the-telling. "If she was in love with the bloke, I can see 'er coming down 'ard on the wife if she found out she offed 'im, even if it was 'er sister, but it 'appened the other way around! That don't make no sense!"

"Ah, Goniff, you have to understand, there is a certain history between the sisters. They had been rivals, in many ways, including with men. Someone, Marie or Luco perhaps, must have said something, enough for Louisa to realize Carlo did NOT die by accident, and braced the two of them."

"So, now she figures out they offed 'im, and wants to get even? Attacks them and they beat 'er up? Then this Marie figures to cover that up, to use it to get back at you through the Warden?" It still seemed needlessly complicated to the pickpocket.

"Not entirely, you are still not seeing the whole dynamic. You see, Carlo was engaged to Louisa before he decided he wanted to marry Marie instead. Her dowery was much the larger, of course, included a great deal of land. I think Louisa didn't mind Carlo ending up dead; after all, he had betrayed her, humiliated her, by abandoning her for Marie. 

"But if he was to end up dead, she had wanted to be the one to do it. Indeed, she proclaimed so to all who would listen, as I recall, ranting while glaring down into the open coffin - that it was unfair that he should die in a fall before she could put a knife through his black betraying heart. So she would have been most annoyed at finding out it wasn't an accident after all. She most likely felt it was another case of Marie doing her out of what was rightfully hers."

Garrison shook his head, watching the remaining pieces fall into place, putting it all together for the first time. Yes, he really could have done without all of this! Still, it was starting to make sense, and he carefully laid it all out, seeing if it still made sense once the words were out there.

"Louisa said Luco was the Nazi plant, and she was intending to let the other leaders know. I don't think Marie had any idea of that; from what I could tell, she would never have tolerated what she would have seen as a betrayal of the Cause.

"So, for Marie and Luco, they each had different motives for the attack. Marie at first probably was defending herself from her sister's rage, but she seems to always be thinking three steps ahead, and realized she could use a battered and bloody and unconscious Louisa as a weapon against me, to get to you. By the time her sister recovered enough to say otherwise, I'd likely be dead.

"Luco, well, he certainly wouldn't have really wanted anyone to know he had helped Marie kill Carlo, who seems to have been quite well-respected locally from what I'd heard - probably would have avoided the whole catastrophe if he'd had a choice. But he REALLY didn't want anyone to know he was the plant in the partisan operation, and maybe something was said, perhaps just a look, that let him know Louisa had found him out. In fact, thinking about it, I would not be surprised if it was Luco who slipped the word to Louisa about Carlo in an attempt to cloud the issue and promote a confrontation he could use to his advantage."

Somehow, NEXT time, Garrison knew he was going to ignore HQ's demand that he not reveal any of the details of a mission before their boots hit the ground. All of this would have been very handy to have known in advance!

"Sheesh! Dames! AND that Luco character! Just too damned complicated!" Casino growled.

Chief snorted in disgust. "What was it you were promising us, Warden? A nice vacation, someplace sunny, with clean air, pretty scenery and nice, friendly people? If you don't mind, I think I want my money back!"

"Sorry, Chief. No refunds, company policy. Now let's see about finding a better place to hide out for awhile til everything dies down. Louisa said she'd try to get word back that we stepped in it, deep, but I don't know that that will do us any good."

"You mean we're on our own," Chief commented stoically.

"What else, Indian? Ain't we always?" Casino replied, and no one could really argue with that. That's just the way things usually were, not always, perhaps, but usually.

*  
They were filthy, each and every one of them, smeared with dirt and blood and grime and probably substances best left unnamed. Every one of them had at least one or more wounds, some bandaged, some not even getting that much attention due to the shortage of supplies. 

To Meghada and Cienna O'Donnell and their brother, Ian, newly arrived on the scene, there was no more beautiful sight in the entire world than those bedraggled, battered men as they slowly exited the cave where they'd been holed up waiting for rescue. Well, rescue or discovery, whichever came first, and although they'd not spoken of it, none had really expected it to be anything other than the latter. Even if it was just Garrison the searchers were after, this was too small a place for the others to be able to con their way out, the language barrier only one aspect of things remarking them as outsiders.

*  
While Major Kevin Richards wasn't there, except in spirit, and would never have called them 'beautiful' even if he had been, still he was sending good thoughts their way, hoping against hope the trio had managed to arrive in time. 

Of course, there was no way of knowing the five men were still alive, other than that rather cryptic message from someone calling herself 'Louisa'. He knew it might be a trap; yet, he knew he had to pass the word on to those who might help, would certainly WANT to help. He did that even before he spoke with someone higher in the food chain. 

That was quite on purpose, the timing, and it made him bless his forethought, gave him a great deal of satisfaction when HQ gave him a firm 'no, quite out of the question. We can't risk sending in anyone after them; they knew the risks. The last thing we can afford is to let anyone know we have any particular interest there."

But by the time they were telling him that, warning him not to get involved, things were already in motion and well out of his control. 

Well, he could always TELL himself it was too late to intervene, to stop the O'Donnells from heading out; it might even be the truth. And he hadn't actually sat down and TOLD them anything; that would have been quite inappropriate! Oh, perhaps he might have been thinking things through, perhaps thinking out loud, while Ian had been having a quiet little conversation with Richards' Aide, Jeffrey Ames. And, yes, he HAD suggested to Jeffrey that he might want to have lunch with Ian, to have Ian pick him up at the office. Totally innocent, that.

Still, he imagined he'd be paying for this little jaunt, in one way or another. Jeffrey Ames might be trying to fiddle things so it wouldn't be obvious that Richards had willfully circumvented a direct order, an order to 'just let it be', (or at least what he had to have expected to be an order), but how successful his efforts would be, Richards wouldn't know til their return. 

Ah, well, he'd already decided against staying in the military after this war was over, if he survived that long. His disillusionment was too overwhelming, his loss of respect for those giving the orders too severe. And with the shortage of trained Handlers, he doubted the military would cashier him now, would probably wait until he was no longer of any use to them, though he expected a hearty raking over the coals.

*  
"The fishing boat we have will only take us to the neighboring island - well, the third one over, actually. There is a small yacht docked there, one we have 'unofficial' approval to 'borrow'. The owner can place no guarantee that they will back us up if we ever claim to have had permission, will probably, for their own safety, have to claim it was stolen. Their identity, their 'place' here, has proved too valuable on too many occasions to risk now. Still, it is our best and fastest way away from here, and it has some additional assets other than speed," Ian told them with a confident smile.

Ciena looked up from where she was tying a fresh bandage to replace the soiled one previously wrapped around Chief's head, and issued a stern warning.

"BUT, the island is known for various, well, 'entrepreneurs', who might think it an ideal opportunity to rob us of whatever we might have. There are one or two so bold as to possibly think it might be an ideal opportunity to steal the yacht and blame it on us; since it's said they do a tidy business in the slave trade, I imagine we wouldn't be in the vicinity long enough to counter their claims. I would suggest everyone be at their most alert, be prepared to take whatever action is needed. 

"It would be best not to kill anyone, if possible, of course. They seem to keep fairly well to the local 'code of conduct' concerning such things. If we get away and out to sea, it seems there is a line beyond which they feel they are not to pursue."

The men looked at each other, thinking all that was a bit much after all ELSE they'd gone through.

"You are saying they are - what? Pirates?" Actor asked. There was no incredulity in his voice; after all, he'd spent considerable time traveling these islands as well as the rest of the world.

That got the men's attention, and their disbelief was evident, Garrison's perhaps more than any.

"Pirates," he repeated, in a dry, very neutral tone of voice.

"As good a way of looking at it as most," Meghada acknowledged, from where she was huddled next to him, this time it being HER sketching out that hurried map in the sand that topped the floor of the cave.

"They are not a benign people, but they do have a sense of honor, if not quite what you are used to, Lieutenant. Though, perhaps you are more accustomed to a variance there than you were at one time," casting a sly grin in the direction of his men as well as at her siblings. 

"AND they have a sense of humor, so if we manage to get through, get away, without killing anyone, we can probably pull this off. Now, mind you, they don't object to some general battering; they'd hardly expect anything else - they give and take with equal ease, rather like Casino in a bar fight. But, please, let any insults come from me or Ian; we know them best, at least by reputation - know what they will accept in good humor, what will offend to the point of wanting our heads dangling from the mast! Believe me, it is NOT intuitive!"

She turned to Actor, "unless you have something special in mind. I understand you also have spent time in these waters." 

Actor flushed, "nothing that would be of our benefit, I'm afraid. Except that as I remember the stories, they do have a high appreciation for any who can outdo them in some manner or another - respect from one professional to another, I believe."

Ian nodded firmly, "exactly. So if one of us drop you a hint, any of you, run with it, but only in the direction we point you. A swagger, a pocket picked and contents displayed, a bit of clever knife-play, perhaps a display of languages or voices - any of that. Be on the lookout for a cue, but don't improvise on your own. And it would be best if we have no need to use ANY of that."

Garrison looked around at his weary, battered men - at the friends who'd come after them - and sighed.

"Okay, everyone, show time!"

In an aside to Actor, he muttered, "next time, remind me to make a few things clear to my travel agent. I think our NEXT vacation needs to include less spontaneity, fewer impromptu amusements, a little more sticking to the agenda. A staid, dull, even boring agenda."

Actor snorted in amusement. "Yes, I am sure such a request will be acceded to, though probably with some bewilderment as to how you did not thoroughly enjoy the delights delivered on THIS little vacation, Craig."

Meanwhile Goniff, overhearing all that, told Chief and Casino, with more than a little disgust, "never went on any ruddy vacations before, other than that one on the 'lovely little French island' like we did with the missing planes. Come to think, that one 'ad something like pirates on it too! 'Ave to say, if this is w'at they tend to be like, vacations, I mean, I'm just as 'appy not to go on another one neither!"

The small boat was big enough for them, but certainly not big enough to keep them from eyeing the surrounding water with apprehension.

"There anything . . .?" Goniff started to ask, uneasily eyeing the blue expanse, before catching Meghada's eye, seeing that warning in the slight shake of her head, her slightly pursed lips. He swallowed the rest of his question about roaming wildlife below the surface, focused on the horizon, focused on keeping his breathing slow and easy. Pirates might be waiting ahead, but as far as he was concerned, he'd rather deal with pirates than whatever might be lurking under that shimmering surface! If Meghada didn't want to talk about it, based on her usual 'don't talk about what you don't want to attract unless you absolutely HAVE to!' theory, well, it was probably something he didn't want to hear anyway! After Scotland, he'd gotten to where any body of water deeper than a bathtub made him more than a little uneasy!

Casino was casting some uneasy looks around too, seeing the occasional ripple that seemed out of sync with the motion of the water. He didn't bother asking; frankly, he didn't want to know - figured there wasn't a hell of a lot he could do about it anyway, would deal with whatever came, when it came. Like Goniff, he was thinking about Scotland, that loch, with its hungry shadows.

As for Chief, he had his knife in his hand, stroking it gently against his knee, and if there was a little more intensity in his eyes, less meditative state, than usual, that was probably to be expected.

Garrison and Actor seemed a little more relaxed, only casting the occasional cautious look at the blue waters, seeming more engaged in planning their next move. 

The sudden splash and leap of a large grey shape from the water, a young dolphin by the looks of it - that shape followed by a far larger one, one with hungry eyes and teeth that glistened in the sunlight, stopped the breath of more than one on the boat. They watched in silence as dinner and diner disappeared once more, shuddered and swallowed deeply.

"Well, that was something," Chief muttered. "Wonder if it . . ."

Then, several hundred yards away, there was a huge thrashing in the water, blood spray filling the air, then - silence, a returning calm that no longer seemed in the least benign.

"Yeah, Indian, I'd say the answer is 'yeah, it did'. Or maybe, depending on your question, 'no, it didn't'," came from the slightly-green safecracker. Garrison noted that wasn't any better a color on him than on their pickpocket. He was just as glad he didn't have a mirror; he wouldn't be surprised if there wasn't a green tinge in his own countenance now.

They pulled into a tiny cove, secured the boat to a piece of metal that looked like the remains of a giant metal fish. Actor looked it over with interest, wondering about its history, but was impatiently pulled to attention by Garrison. Next stage of their vacation was ahead, no time to dilly-dally, viewing the sights.

"Is that our goal?" Actor asked with deep interest at the end of their short trek. It was an elegant yacht, not huge, but certainly worthy of appreciation, easily managed by a knowledgeable crew of no more than two or three. The question was, of course, who would be doing that crewing, since he doubted any of the team had such skills. He had spent time on such a yacht before, yes, but mostly as a pampered passenger, only lending a hand as a matter of amusement, his tasks set aside as soon as boredom or something of greater interest appeared.

"What's that flag she's flying?" Garrison asked. "Wait, there're two of them." 

"Yes, she flies under a Portuguese registery, at least at this time. The other is her own personal insignia," Ciena answered easily.

They took turns looking through the binoculars. The registery flag was bright and colorful - green and gold and red, with just a flicker of blue - though the details were hard to make out. For some reason, the insignia flag was easier to distinguish, though the colors were softer. A fanciful beast curled there, part horse, part fish perhaps. Its eyes were golden, with long lashes and a winsome look, clearly a feminine creature, whatever else it - she - might be. There was even something in the pose, something alluring, something inviting that spoke to their masculinity.

"A mermaid? With a horse's head?" Casino asked in a disbelieving voice. "What the hell??" 

He wasn't about to add what he was thinking, that when the wind moved that flag just right, the light hit just right, it WAS a mermaid, long flowing hair, alluring smile, right before the flag moved again, and it was a beautiful woman, then another movement, and it was that freaky THING again!

"A hippocamp, akin perhaps to the kelpie, as well as to the merfolk, though not the same, of course. And that's what she's known as, at least most times. 'The Hippocamp', sometimes known as 'The Kelpie', though the name painted on her side translates to something more benign, less evocative - 'The Fragrant Pearl'. For some reason, people get nervous about the first two names, and it doesn't do to go upsetting them - before it's necessary, anyway," Ian grinned. "You might say it, well, 'belongs' to a distant member of the Family, along with a few others in other choice locations."

Garrison distrusted that wording, that grin, distrusted even more the knowing grins that were returned by Ian's sisters. Thinking of those names, what they represented, particular the first two - combining that with what which he now knew or suspected about Clan O'Donnell - he found himself shuddering, much as he had when Sea Creature Two found Sea Creature One and prepared dinner in full view. Yes, he was DEFINITELY going to have a word with his travel agent!

They'd gotten onboard with relative ease, though Garrison had protested Ian and Ciena's plan of swimming out to the elegant vessel.

"Just us, Lieutenant. We don't expect you and your men to enter the waters here; indeed would do our utmost to prevent you if you attempted it," Ian assured them. "Don't worry, we'll be safe enough. She knows us, the sweet lady, will keep a watchful eye on us."

Garrison stared after the duo with some disgruntlement as they slipped carefully into the water and were gone. "I suppose that's supposed to reassure me," he stated, the tone of his voice showing just how far from the mark THAT was.

Meghada chuckled under her breath. "Brave, bold fighting men that you all are, I doubt they thought any of you would need reassurance. Let ME reassure you, though; they've both done this before. While it is not risk-free, it is certainly far safer than if any of you attempted the same thing. Be patient, one of them will be back with the dinghy soon."

And Ciena was back, and they were ferried on board in two trips. The last trip included a warning.

"There are signs of activity toward the village. I expect we'll have company before long, certainly before we can pull away. Be on guard."

And so it was. They'd barely got onboard, got the dinghy secured when the men swarmed over the sides, knives clenched between their teeth. There were no more than a dozen, though in those first few moments it seemed far more. Seemingly, the yacht had a certain reputation in these waters, such that only the boldest of the bold, the most daring, were willing to board her, which was to the team's advantage.

Garrison and the others of his team were unarmed, except for Chief. He wasn't sure about the O'Donnell's, but since at least two of them were still water-soaked, he was sure they didn't have pistols that could be relied upon. Meghada did, but seemed to have forgotten about it, since she hadn't pulled it yet. Odd, that, Garrison thought, knowing she wasn't usually the hesitant sort.

They were faced off, Garrison, his men, the three O'Donnells, against the twelve intruders. Goniff and Casino looked around quickly to see what they could use. Goniff came up blank, while Casino spotted what could be very useful - a very heavy screwdriver with what had to be a 24 inch shaft added onto a sturdy foot-long handle, obviously for getting into deep places otherwise inaccessible.

Garrison and Actor smiled stepped forward to try and do the 'hale fellow well met' bit, though somehow that confident sneer on the leader's face didn't bode well for that. It was a shock to be greeted in accented English.

"Stealing, are you? We dislike stealing. Well," and the leader, a handsome black-haired man laughed, casting a jovial look around to his compatriots, "unless WE are the ones doing the stealing." The look became less pleasant, more threatening.

"Do you wish to know what we do with those who seek to steal from us, stranger?"

"From YOU?" Meghada snorted, coming forward a pace or two. "You would tell us this is YOUR ship? I think not! Such an elegant creature would demand more than such as you, no matter how much a Handsome Jack you think yourself!"

That got a frown, and an uncomfortable, even wary look from the leader and the men.

"You speak as if the vessel were a woman," he tried again, with a hurrumph of uneasy amusement.

That his answer was a sly, knowing smile obviously did nothing to put him at ease. 

"Are not most seaworthy vessels female? Ah, but this one, she is most special, is she not? As I believe you well know. A most elegant, beautiful female, and well able to decide who she will allow to captain her, if only for awhile, for constancy is perhaps not her strongest feature. Shall we let HER decide, whose hands she will accept on her, Handsome Jack? I, for one, would not think to gainsay her," Meghada offered.

'Handsome Jack', more commonly known as Raffaele to his friends, stoked his courage and his ego to respond in kind.

"And you think she would prefer one of THESE at her helm? Prefer THEIR hands guiding her, appreciating her, bringing her to sweet fulfillment on the waves? There is no woman in these islands who denies me, is not pleased when I look her way; think she will be the first?" The proud look became a leer as he took in the two red-headed females dressed in trousers. "Would YOU think to deny me? In favor of one of THESE, perhaps?" casting a disparaging look at Garrison and the others, who were more than a little bewildered by the odd tone of the discussion.

The pirate laughed, and his men laughed with him, though the laughter seemed a little strained when the smiles on the women's faces changed not in the least, nor did the ready stance of the men facing them.

Meghada shrugged, "go, then, and make the attempt, with HER anyway. Though - If you wanted her, why have you not tried for her before, tried to coax her to your hand? Or have you, perhaps? How long did it take for your palms to heal, Handsome Jack?" Her tone was one of amused mocking, and Garrison groaned inside, not at all sure that was the tactic that needed to be taken. Still, it wasn't his call; the gauntlet had already been thrown down.

Raffeale bristled, flushing, remembering those two OTHER times he had boarded the vessel, remembering the stories, the legends surrounding her - the first time so confidently taking her polished wheel in his hands, only to suffer a burning like he had never known before. The second time he had been more cautious, wearing heavy gloves like those worn by the ones who worked the forges. He'd had to buy old Nico a new pair, what with the state he'd returned them in, and he'd STILL had to heal his blistered palms.

Now he lied, "I do not think to make her my own, only to protect her from those who would take her against her will," his dark eyes purely shining with altruistic purpose.

Raffeale drew his pistol and signaled his men, who moved forward, but that heavy long-handled screwdriver fell across his wrist so that, with a curse, he felt his benumbed hand dropping it. Then the battle was fierce, though now mostly with fists, any knives seeming to become unnaturally heated, dropping from their fingers. Well, except for Chief's blade, which moved to good purpose, a slash here, a slash there, though always keeping in mind the warning not to let any of it be life-threatening.

One by one the men dropped over the side into the four small boats awaiting them, and were gone, all except for Handsome Jack. HE was now facing Craig Garrison, the two men clench-jawed, determined, each within arms reach of the ship's wheel. 

Each reached out to claim possession of the honey-colored wood, and while Handsome Jack tried, the pain became too much and he snatched his hand away, muttering curses under his breath. Craig Garrison saw no reason for the other man's reaction; the wheel felt smooth, polished, warm from the sun - most welcoming, somehow. He confidently laid his other hand on the surround, stroking it gently, feeling it warm even more under his touch.

There was a trembling under their feet, and while Garrison didn't know the cause, his opponent lost a few shades of color in his face, and backed away even further. What had been a soft trembling for Garrison had been an ominous lurching, as if the first rumblings of an earthquake, for Raffaele.

"Ah, I see I was mistaken in the matter, entirely. She seems to have made her decision. Far be it for me to argue with the lady's choice," he forced a reluctant laugh, and then he too was gone, over the side.

Garrison and the others watched as the four small boats were pulled ashore, the men standing there watching 'The Pearl', or as Garrison now firmly thought of the ship in his mind 'The Sweet Lady' as she slowly made her way out to sea. 

Garrison strode to the railing, looking after them, and felt an odd masculine triumph, something far out of proportion to what had just occurred. {"I feel like one of those knights from King Arthur's Court must have felt, after rescuing the lovely princess from the marauders!"} he thought, laughing at his unreasonable flight of fancy. The men of his team were just looking more confused than ever.

"Well, that was a pleasant little interlude. We were lucky he was a reasonable sort, agreeable to taking a firm 'NO' as an answer when a lady makes her position quite clear. Unfortunately, not all men are," Meghada said cheerily, and the others, well, except for Ian and Ciena, looked at her as if she'd lost her mind.

"Yes, most reasonable," Actor replied dryly, nursing the additional bruises, the two gashes he'd taken in the fight. "We must remember to visit again and repeat the ever-so-pleasant experience."

They were interrupted from continuing in that vein when Ciena called from where she stood at the wheel.

"Craig? I think she wants the pleasure of your company. Come ahead, will you, take the wheel for awhile? She's an agreeable lass, she is, if being a little overly-bold at the moment. She's not one for forcing the issue, but it seems she does find you quite appealing. Talk it over, see if you might come to some equally-pleasing mutual accord, yes?"

As a bewildered and more than a little apprehensive Garrison passed the smirking redhead, he could only glare in disbelief as she whispered, all with a wicked grin, "she says you have a lovely 'touch', you know. Best be careful, though, not carry things TOO far unless you are quite sure you're comfortable with the outcome. 'Protection' with THIS female might require something a little more sturdy than what you're accustomed to using. And besides, Goniff and Meghada might have a few words to say on the subject," Ciena laughed. Then she looked thoughtful and shrugged. "Or then again, if it's all kept within the circle of Family and Friends, where the lady firmly dwells, who knows? Meghada, at least, has shown herself to be quite lenient in such matters, has she not, in her welcoming of you?"

He stared after her as she went to join the others, laughing at some comment from her sister. The others had to wonder at the totally 'is she out of her everloving mind??!' look on Garrison's bewildered face, but they followed Ciena's firm direction and headed back below.

"Well, come on, Craig, if you're of a mind to be sociable. She may think you're appealing and worth waiting for, still she's not known for being overly patient, you know," Ian added, his smirk not any the less than his sister's. "She just MIGHT change her mind in a pout."

Ian left Garrison there, standing at the wheel, then carefully closing his hands around the polished wood, and ushered the others down into the spacious cabin below, closing the bottom of the Dutch door behind him.

Actor frowned in disapproval at the only ones seemingly competent at handling the ship being away from the wheel.

"He doesn't know how to handle a ship, Ian. Surely you don't think to leave him up there alone??!" he scolded.

The others looked equally concerned - well, except for Ian and the O'Donnell sisters.

Meghada laughed, but with a slightly apologetic look at a frowning, now more than a little suspicious, maybe even a slightly-jealous, Goniff.

"Ye dinna need worry; the ship practically steers herself, you see. He'll do quite well once he gets the feel for her, and her for him. He'll return when they've finished, um, communing."

"'Gaida . . .!!" Goniff uttered in protest, starting to get a good idea where this might be headed, only to have her lay her hand gently on his arm and cajole him.

"And isn't that what you've told ME, laddie? That there are some times when a man should have some leeway? Like with pretty Justine and a few others you've done your 'patriotic duty' with? And this isn't a demand, you know - just an invitation, you might say. Would you begrudge him that? OR her? She spends so much time alone. Though she could have her choice, she's just that particular, you know. Takes someone right special to catch her eye, and it seems she thinks Craig is that, well enough."

He hummmphed, still frowning, but then a slow smile of reluctant acknowledgement came over him. "Well, suppose that's true. As long as Craig don't mind . . ."

Meghada laughed, low and deep in her throat, glancing toward the bow of the yacht. "Oh, I doubt he minds, once he gets over the novelty of the notion. And it is an honor, you know. She rarely takes a fancy, you see, not enough to issue such an invitation."

Goniff considered, then nodded. "And 'ave to say she 'as right good taste. There's none better. Always said there's something just a little magical about 'im; I can't expect to be the only one who sees that. Suppose she sees it right enough as well."

Still, he made a point of going to the top of the steps, slipping open that bottom door, sitting sideways where he could see the wheel where Garrison stood, now with his shirt off, letting the warm air brush over him, his head thrown back to the sunshine above, eyes shut, smile on his face. 

{"Glory, w'at a sight!"}

They heard Goniff's low call, the words being lost to the wind, though the inquiring nature was apparent, just as was the laugh and reassuring nature of the voice answering in reply. Goniff wrinkled his face in amusement, shaking his lowered head with a laugh of his own, and then latched the door and came back to join them.

"'E's truly a wonder, the Lieutenant; ain't nobody can say any different! Adapts right well to surprises and such. Doubt she'll be 'aving any complaints!"

The others of the team tried to ignore that whole aside, the follow-up, tried mightily, although with varying levels of success. Well, except for Casino, who just gave Goniff and Meghada and the other O'Donnell siblings a dirty look and an exasperated, "sometimes, you guys! Even when we know you're just foolin around, tryin to pull our chain, it gets under a guy's skin! Kinda creepy, ya know??"

And Actor? He found himself even a little slighted, insulted even, that it had been Garrison to be given that 'invitation'. That is, until he realized just how ludicrous that entire exchange between Goniff and Meghada had been, how ridiculous the notion put forth by Cienna and her brother, and flushed to think how they'd almost drawn him into an equally ludicrous argument comparing his and Garrison's appeal to some imaginary mythical female manifestation of the ship itself. 

{"Casino is right! The nonsense they come up with to tease us! The lengths to which they will go to make me appear foolish! And that Craig would encourage them, even enable them! Ridiculous!!!"}

A goodly amount of time later, Ian glanced toward the bow as if in answer to a summons only he could hear, put down the book he was reading, and stood, stretched. "Time for me to get back to work. See you later. Ciena, don't forget to show them the most pertinent secrets this lady holds; we still may have need of them."

He had been gone only two or three minutes when a pink-faced, sun-flushed Craig Garrison returned, buttoning his shirt, smelling of sun and salt and fresh air and a sweet, spicy undefinable something not so easily named, taking care not to meet anyone's eyes straight on. Seemingly their leader wasn't much in the mood for conversation, though he gratefully accepted a glass of whiskey from a serene-faced Meghada. 

In fact, he never DID discuss that little period of time, not with Goniff, not with anyone, even convincing himself he'd had perhaps too much sun, causing hallucinations. Perhaps it was best that way, although he did admit to himself they were most ENJOYABLE hallucinations.

Actor gave him a considering look, "and you did not find it difficult to steer the yacht, Craig?"

Garrison blushed, "no, it wasn't difficult. Mostly . . . well, it was if she was steering herself, you know? I've never experienced anything quite like it," he admitted, though obviously considering the subject closed.

Actor raised his brows, considering, then set aside his book and stood up. "Perhaps I might try my hand . . ." He broke off as the ship lurched rapidly, left to right, back again, back again, and Actor lost his balance and fell heavily to the intricate flooring below.

The ship regained its smooth gliding over the water, and Actor frowned and yelled to Ian, above, "that was NOT amusing, Ian!"

They heard Ian laugh from above, "not my idea, Actor. Seems the lady took exception to your intentions, though. Probably better off not repeating them! Seems she's a particular lass, most particular, and you just don't strike her fancy."

It took some teasing from the guys, teasing Garrison very carefully kept aloof from, to get the tall Italian beyond that foolishness from the O'Donnell brother, but he was distracted when Goniff asked Meghada for another one of those sea-sickness bundles, and somehow the subject didn't come up again.

Goniff rested his head against the polished boards making up the cabin of the elegant little yacht slowly making its way out to sea, taking a good look around. 

The Portuguese flag waved overhead, over the one of that beautiful and most fanciful sea-creature, something like a mer-horse, rather than a mer-maid, though the eyes were decidedly feminine. The sea-creature on the flag was foam-green and gold, with a flowing blue-green mane. 

The Portuguese flag was a combination of green, gold, and red, with little bits of blue. He grinned at the sight, not only colorful, but to him, quite meaningful. {"I'll 'ave to remember to ask 'Gaida if that's why she chose that one, not just because Portugal is a neutral country. Green for Craig's eyes, gold for 'is 'air, red for 'ers, and blue for my own eyes. Yes, it fits right nice!"}. 

He wanted to ask Craig about the other flag, but figured he'd have to pick his time for that one. {"Tends to be a bit skittish about things sometimes; probably 'is upbringing, those ruddy parents of 'is, and that military training."}

"Never thought I'd say it, feeling the way I do about boats, you know, but I'm ruddy glad to be on this one!" he said around the small lump of motion-sickness herbs in his cheek. That was another from a package of such things that Meghada had thrown into her pocket on her run out the door after the call from London.

Weary nods, a chuckle or two, showed the universal agreement with that sentiment. Garrison's blush was returning, much to Goniff's amusement; he wondered if he ever WOULD get the full story from the man. {"Well, we all 'ave our secrets, though this one might be a little more than even the odder of mine."}

"Well, I must say, this yacht is a much higher grade of transportation than what we usually experience when we are crossing water," Actor admitted. "I once had a lovely two week cruise on one quite similar. It too had some surprising features though possibly used for different purposes. The Contessa di Marchant, a most lovely and sensuous lady, had been quite insistent that I accompany her while she . . ." 

"Beautiful??! Shut up - just - shut up!" Casino groaned. Looking around at their rescuers, he explained. "He just never stops, ya know? If it's not him lecturing us on some dumb artistic shit or the other, it's him and his broads! That one back there in Sicily? Him screwing around with her is mostly what caused all the trouble. Well, that and screwing around with one of those guys' old lady, and pulling a con on another one."

Actor protested, but to no avail, and in truth, Casino was right. Marie DID bear a grudge, and Ricardo had an equally long memory of the wrong done to him, as did the late-but-unmourned Luco. Most likely Garrison's job would have been at least somewhat easier without that history. But it wasn't ENTIRELY Actor's fault. At least part of it had been the result of bad blood between the three groups caused by, among other things, that traitor in their midst. 

A quick low warning call from above had Garrison and three of his men scurrying into the hidden compartment Ciena had shown them as soon as they'd gotten safely settled. None of them had been anxious to explore that dark tight place, had been hoping it wouldn't be necessary to know how it felt to be locked in there. Even knowing there was an emergency exit from the place didn't calm their fears, since it opened to the water and if the yacht hadn't already sunk, it certainly would then with that compartment ajar. It was obviously a means of last resort.

Goniff had said uneasily, looking the darkness of that confined space, noting where that pull lever was, "so anything goes wrong, we can either drown in there or outside? Coo!" He and Chief exchanged a silent look of apprehension; neither of those seemed good choices.

Now, though, with that boat approaching, machine gun bolted to the bow, it seemed they were destined to know just how it felt to be crammed in there. Well, at least they'd been assured they would be able to hear what was going on, wouldn't be caught totally unawares. Hopefully, that is, unless even those above were given no warning before bullets started riddling the place. 

Still, those above had been prepared for this, had their story well rehearsed. They all crossed their fingers, those four crammed into that coffin-like space, tried to slow their heartbeat, and listened.

The hailing from the approaching Water Patrol had been brisk, but still polite enough to give them hope of a peaceful encounter. 

The owners of the yacht were polite in return, though somewhat impatient to be on their way. At least, the one doing most of the talking.

"My husband, he is ill, you see," Meghada explained in well-accented Italian. "We had thought to visit my dear friend the Contessa and her husband for a full week, but Edwardo fell, and then developed a chill, and the doctors were quite concerned." Her voice lowered, and in a confidential tone explained, "his health, it has not been the same since the bombing. He escaped the fate of many, though in the destruction of his offices he suffered a harsh blow to the head, and the inhaling of the debris - well, his lungs are not what they should be. And then, the fall when we were viewing the grounds with the Contessa . . ."

Actor was laid out on the side bunk, eyes barely open, wet rag to his forehead, handkerchief crumpled in his hand. He didn't relish playing the invalid, but he was the least visibly damaged and one of only two of the team who could speak fluent Italian. He was comforted somewhat by the knowledge of that pistol slid between the bunk and the wall.

"And the rest of your party?" the leader of the boarding party asked, "a family group, yes?"

Well, that was pretty obvious, at least with Meghada and Ciena.

"Yes, my younger sister and her husband, Christoph," motioning to Ian.

Meghada gave a pouting moue. "And it was to be such a NICE visit, too, and quite educational. The Count is quite active in monitoring the local defenses, and Edwardo and Christoph were learning so much about how to prepare our own property in case of the Americans or the British being so foolish as to underestimate the combined forces of the brave Italian and German soldiers who defend us. Edwardo says it is unlikely, of course, but it does not hurt to be prepared, and it will most likely comfort the local people to see us putting things into place." 

She was rambling, on purpose, seeing the young man relax more and more all the time. Now, she watched with great interest out of the corner of her eye as another, a slightly older man, casually walked around the enclosed cabin, running his hand over the paneling here and there, his fingers now exploring along the edge of one long seam the full height of the cabin.

She gasped aloud, drawing everyone's attention. Whirling, turning to the young man in charge, she demanded, "but are you truly the Water Patrol? You have identification? That one, why is he so interested in our safe? Are you really pirates, thinking to rob us? We had been warned of such!!" 

She was working up to a nice little show of hysteria. Ian came up and put his arm around her, ostensibly trying to calm her. 

With an embarrassed and apologetic shrug, he told the bewildered men, "my sister, she gets these notions, that those around her are perhaps not what they seem, are some threat. The bombing, Eduardo being injured - it has not been good for her nerves, you see; that was part of why we were making the visit to the Count, both to distract her, and perhaps discover some means of making her more comfortable in her mind as to her safety."

The older man didn't seem quite as convinced as the younger, asking in a suspicious voice, "this safe? Is it not rather large? Just what is contained within?"

Ian smiled broadly, "come, I will show you. I assure you we are not carrying contraband, only some few pieces of jewelry my sister likes to keep near her. Well, and a few bottles of wine from my uncle's vinyard. We've gotten spoiled, you see; a remarkable vintner, my uncle." 

As he was speaking, he made his way toward the long vertical seam in the paneling, shushing his sister's whimper of consternation. 

"Here, see for yourself," he offered, and the two men looked their fill at the space. "It's not as large as you were perhaps imagining; it is a tall space, yes, but quite narrow, just big enough for two bottles of wine laid side-by-side on each shelf, and my sister's jewelry box."

The leader looked at his companion in mild annoyance, "you see, there is nothing, no room for anything else!" Then he turned to Ian, "the wine, it is truly special?" those words being spoken longingly, his eyes hopeful.

"Truly," Ian assured him. "In fact, since we are returning home much sooner than expected, we have no need for that many bottles. Would you like to take two with you, perhaps to share with your men?"

That offer was eagerly accepted, and even the older man, now rummaging through the jewelry box, seemed mollified. Ian pretended not to notice the scoundrel pocketing that pair of diamond earrings. 

{"Hopefully that will make him more eager to leave quickly; that WAS one of the reasons we brought that pretty little assortment."}

It was a toss-up, sometimes, in running a con like that; would the ones being conned be content with a couple bottles of wine, a stray piece of jewelry? Or would they think to take everything, perhaps trying to eliminate any witnesses in the bargain? They were prepared should it come to that, but disposing of bodies and sinking that gunboat could get a little tricky, especially if there was a set check-in time for the men.

In this case it seemed the boarders were not interested in anything on a grand scale, being well content with the tokens they'd received. It was with a hearty wave of farewell that the gun boat made its way off, the entire crew onboard. That was something they'd carefully observed, both from afar and near, that three men only were on board and three men departed. In fact, while laying on that bunk, Actor had kept his barely-slitted eyes on that boat the entire time, just to be sure there was no one hidden from view who might think to sneak aboard.

"Ian, let's get on our way. Ciena, let them out of there! I've spent time in that hole; I can only imagine how Chief and Goniff are managing!" Meghada urged.

"Well, I doubt Casino and Craig are enjoying it much either," Ciena remarked as she removed the thin rubber seals that disguised the opening between the floorboards as being just another part of the complicated pattern of inlay.

Well, they'd managed, all four of them, crowded to where even a sardine in a tin would have been aghast at the forced familiarity. They could feel each other's hearts pounding, could feel the involuntary trembling in their limbs. Although they'd been told sound would be muffled, they knew if they could hear the voices above, any noise louder than their breathing might be detected during a careful search.

Actor spared a few thoughts to Louisa, Marie's younger sister, fervently appreciative that she had been able to set aside her distaste for him enough to get Craig out of that trap alive, to send word of their delimma.

Still, he knew he was not forgiven, not by either sister, and reluctantly decided that, IF they made it out alive, he was going to scratch Sicily off the list of his preferred vacation spots. He might even consider selling that charming little house. Even if there SHOULD be a softening of their hearts toward him, which he deemed unlikely in the extreme, that still left Ricardo (the one with the obliging Sophia, now his wife). Luco, of course, was no longer an issue since none of the partisans were happy with his spying and didn't begrudge one of the sisters having stuck a knife through his heart. Of course, Luco's younger brother, loyal though he was to the Cause, probably wasn't happy about the jewels Actor had managed to con the family out of. That was a consideration also. 

{"No, probably better write Sicily off as a spot to revisit,"} Actor told himself reluctantly. Pity, he did rather like the place.

The day was sunny and warm, comfortable enough to please any of them. Inhaling the salt-tinged air, they could easily imagine they were on that vacation Garrison had promised them. They were enjoying it while they could; the next stop, only a few hours away, would have them on a plane, which wouldn't be nearly as pleasant.

They were headed, eventually, to Wales, to Haven, where Caeide, yet another O'Donnell sister, lived. There they would find out whether they would be welcome back in England, or whether they'd need to make alternate plans. 

Garrison, of course, was determined HE'D be going back. The others hadn't tried to argue him out of it, figuring they'd deal with that later. All four of his men admitted secretly that they weren't ruling out knocking him over the head and dragging him away to safety if need be, but they figured he'd not appreciate hearing about that just yet. No sense getting his back up if it wasn't necessary, or wasting time and energy arguing about what might not come to pass anyway..

Even Kevin Richards had admitted to Caeide that he didn't know what the reaction would be, but that caution was only prudent until he knew something solid.

For his part, he thought any trouble would most likely land squarely on HIS shoulders, not on Garrison and his team. After all, they hadn't ASKED to be plucked from that cave in Sicily. And apparently, at least according to the mysterious Louisa, they HAD accomplished the mission they'd been sent to do, prepare the local brigands to aid the Allies when the action started.

Still, only time would tell. 

Ciena stepped around the various sprawled bodies, handing each one a glass of that truly excellent wine from the safe. Pleased smiles greeted her, smiles that grew as they looked around contentedly, tasting what the glass held. Yes, old Alberto, though not an O'Donnell uncle, really was an outstanding vintner, along with being a Family Friend.

Actor's voice came through the clearest, actually expressing what more than one of them were thinking, this last day of April.

"I was thinking about our April theme, 'All In All, I'd Rather Be -', and I find I am unable to think of anything worthwhile to contribute. Or, to say it better - Actually, I cannot think of anywhere I would rather be, not at this precise moment! Or anyone I would rather be with," his dark eyes taking in the welcome sight of his brothers-in-arms, and their friends who had come, against all opposition, against all odds, to bring them home.

"Here, here!" a general toast proclaimed as they looked out toward the inlet they were drawing ever closer to. 

"I do 'ave to say, Lieutenant, I don't know I'd want to take another vacation there anytime soon, but it did 'ave its nice spots. Maybe after the war . . . And, Ian, any chance of taking that flag 'ome with us, sort of a souvenir, maybe? The one on top, I mean. Green, gold, red and blue - real nice combination, that is," glancing at the colorful insign waving briskly in the wind. "Wouldn't mind 'aving that 'anging back in the Dorm, you know? Be right cheery, it would; a reminder of the important things, you know?"

There was something about that look - one of innocent enthusiasm mixed with sly knowing - that made Garrison give his pickpocket a suspicious look, and then a quick glance over at Meghada. He could tell, whatever it was, she was onto it already and thoroughly approved. 

"Well, I think this one probably needs to stay with the yacht, at least til I can get a replacement," Ian laughed. "But I expect it can be arranged fairly soon, Goniff. You should be able to take home at least ONE nice souvenir from a relaxing vacation!"

"Well, I for one would prefer a bottle of this truly remarkable wine," Actor admitted, thinking the colors in that flag overly bright, but considering the colors Goniff had used on the Common Room ceiling, perhaps the attraction wasn't too unexpected.

Casino was in favor of the wine too, but not Goniff. He listened to Casino's arguments, then gave a considering look at that bottle of wine, then back up to the flag, then smirked knowingly and firmly shook his head.

"Nah, the buzz from that wine won't be nearly as good, or last nearly so long," he insisted, with only one other in the room having a clue what he was going on about.

As for Chief? No, he didn't want a bottle of that wine either. What he stubbornly insisted he wanted (though with just a hint of humor in his dark eyes) was "a full refund" since that little vacation hadn't lived up to Garrison's promises.

Garrison, busy studying that flag that so entranced his pickpocket {"green, yellow, red and blue?? What . . .?"}. 

Then he knew, and grinned at the knowing, grinned at the thought that it would be a sort of souvenir for HIM as well. He knew somehow that asking for that OTHER flag would be unacceptable, but he knew he would remember it for a long, long time.

Now, realizing what Chief was saying, the reason everyone was looking at him so expectantly, he firmly said, "no, no refunds. Sorry; like I said, it's company policy. Tell you what, though. I WILL let you put it forward on the next nice little vacation spot I come up with."

Chief gave him a dry look, raised one brow and proclaimed, "nah, nevermind. I'll take the loss and the bottle of wine. Figure it might be safer that way."

They were all laughing as they pulled close to the shore where transport awaited them, to take them back home. 

And if there was some regret on their part when they disembarked, there was some regret on the part of the ship as well. It was rare an outing proved as eventful, as pleasurable as this one had proved.

In the aftermath, after the uncomfortable, somewhat loud debriefing in London, Lieutenant Craig Garrison sat crosslegged on the floor of his bedroom in front of the fireplace. At his side were three reports - one, the report he would turn in for the official record. It was brief, clear, pointed and relatively uncomplicated, though covering all details pertinent to the understanding of any official reader who might be perusing it. One was the report he'd prepared and edited so very, very carefully - changing many words to less-emotion-drenched ones, leaving out whole pieces that, while interesting, would have only distracted that 'official reader' from the pertinent facts. He knew, ruefully, that there were more scratched out parts than what were left in, but that was often the way of it. HQ didn't need to know everything, would have been highly uncomfortable knowing even what else was in that second report. Besides, considering the brevity of that briefing file, somehow it seemed only right to have an equally brief final report.

And as for the third - ah, that he sat with for a long time, moving among the pages as he revisited one line or another, one scene after another. This was, as always to his mind, the REAL report, but as always, one that would only bring an apoplexy to the 'official reader' or an immediate frenzied bout of hysteria and loud demands for dire repercussions to land on his men. Along with, he acknowledged, chuckling over a few passages, his immediate confinement in a locked ward awaiting psychological evaluation.

The one report, the brief, clear and pointed one, that would be copied and sent along to HQ. The other two, somewhat to his regret, he now carefully fed to the fire, page by page. He would rather have liked to have kept the third report, his own souvenir of that unlikely 'little vacation', but knew how foolish that would be. 

No, he'd be well-content with the souvenir Ian had showed up with for him, along with the Portuguese flag for Goniff to so eagerly hang in the Dorm. 

Craig Garrison glanced over at the far wall, the framed embroidered linen square depicting a lovely if more than a little unusual being, skin a pale green, long flowing hair a sea-foam green, with golden feminine eyes. Whether she was maid or mermaid, the tossing waves concealed, but her beauty nothing could hide. Those eyes - they seemed to smile at him, warm, happy, even loving. Then he chuckled and shook his head, wondering at the strange fancies and hallucinations he'd had while standing at the wheel of that yacht. 

No matter, still the sight made him feel warm inside and smile, surely what a proper souvenir should do.

*  
(The end of a fanciful story 'The Warrior and the Femmes Fatales', as related by Ian O'Donnell to his attentive parents on his next trip home) - 

"And far away, in the rolling surf of a warm sunswept island, a laughing golden-eyed lady danced and played with her green-eyed babes, sending warm and grateful thoughts far across the seas - thoughts to a man who, if not quite so magical a being as she herself was, still had more magic to him than most from the Outlander world could claim."

"Truly a nice ending to a most adverturous tale, Ian," Felane commented, pouring another drink for the three of them. "Perhaps you could write it down; proper genealogical records are so important, you know. One never knows what the future might hold."


End file.
